


The kiss

by Saphirott



Series: Little Things [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, One Shot, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:36:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphirott/pseuds/Saphirott
Summary: Because today, April 13th, is International Kissing Day. And because one kiss deserves a story. This is my story, or Sam and Dean's, for all of you.I hope you like it.





	The kiss

The kiss  
By: Saphirott

No.... definitely not yet aware of what is happening, if anything at all. He could be sick... Yes, that would be a plausible option because he's not feeling very well. Or…, yes? He's a little dizzy, that's for sure, and he's hot, he feels his cheeks burning and that's not very normal considering that the heating in this shitty motel, which they landed in this week, is broken. He is hot, but at the same time, he feels chills running down his spine, as if his spine were the connecting cable of two poles of alternating current. His hands are sweating, and he doesn't know why, but he has his fists clenched on his knees because he doesn't know where to put them. 

He must definitely be sick, because his stomach goes up and down like he's at a fairground attraction. Some people talk about butterflies in the stomach, he doesn't think they're butterflies, he feels them like war horses galloping towards the final battle and he might even say that the sound of the hooves deafens his ears, but it could also be that it wasn't the hooves, but the beats of his racing pulse, echoing in his ears, beating in his temples, propelled by the rhythm of his heart that he doesn't know if is now lodged in his chest or his throat.

His eyes are closed, that's for sure, so it could be a dream too. A hallucination of his sick mind! That's it, for sure! He's sick, he has a fever and he's asleep, dreaming. That explanation makes more sense. It also fits with situations changing from one second to the next, those things that happen in dreams, that you're going to school in the morning and the second you're on a beach toasting in the sun

That's exactly what had happened and that's what proves that this is a dream; because just a minute ago, he was arguing with Dean about what movie to watch, it was a fight of the usual, of the "Shut up, kid, I'm the oldest", of an "Idiot" followed by a "Bitch", in which there was no lack of some stap on the back of the neck and a couple of pushes to which, with his seventeenth years old, he was not going to stop answering. And suddenly...

Yeah, it's definitely a dream. Because, also, in the hypothetical case that this were true, and that would be a very big hypothesis; this should feel bad, very bad. In Pastor Jim's words it would be something like, "You're walking on the edge of hell's abyss, boy. You're about to fall," said in a deep, low voice, one of those scary voices. But no, it's just the opposite, it feels pretty damn good. So good, that's another reason this is a dream. Because, let's see, he's seventeen years old and although shy, he's quite handsome and, of course, it's not the first time he's kissed someone, or been kissed, in other words, he's had some experience, and never, ever, ever, ever, ever made sense about all this. This only happens in movies and pink novels.

So yes, it is a dream, and it is beautiful, but he feels the need to open his eyes, although he really hopes that this is not one of those dreams that is forgotten when he wakes up, he would like to be able to keep it in his memory, because..., well, just because... Because, yes.

And he lets out a gentle sigh of resignation before opening his eyes very slowly, and all he sees is green. A green with the depth of a jungle, bright and with golden hues dotted here and there, around enormously dilated pupils. And they are very, very close, projecting on him a lot of feelings that he knows how to recognize, because he knows those eyes perfectly, because they are the first memory he has if he turns back in his memory; always on him, worried, vigilant, happy, proud. They are an open book, written only for him, his book, which he has slept with every night for as long as he can remember.

Today, those eyes speak of surprise, they are stained with certain touches of panic and, above all, they reflect expectation and anxiety. He can see how they move nervously over his face and he feels like he should say something, or do something, but he doesn't know what, he just knows he's drowning, that the room is running out of air and that this time it must be true because Dean is not breathing either. And there's only one thing he can do....

It is an imperceptible movement because the distance is very short, perhaps it has been a little fast, clumsy and a little uncoordinated, but it has reached its goal. It must have been the right answer, because now the air is coming back into his lungs, even if it is choppy, slipping through the nooks and crannies that his lips occasionally leave, now busy making sure he is not dreaming.

And he feels everything he felt before, but multiplied by a thousand because now he is aware of what is happening. He is aware of his brother's fluffy lips pressing against his own, first soft and tentative, asking questions, asking permission. Did Dean really think he could refuse? The kiss went up in intensity and soon that tongue was in his mouth and everything was just fine, everything was perfect.

And now, now they're both laughing, a little nervous laugh. Dean's hand is on his neck, caressing his cheek bone with his thumb, keeping it close, closer than they've ever been. Theirs..., have abandoned that tight posture and are timidly venturing on their brother's leg and waist. Their foreheads are together, catching their breath, breathing every sigh from each other's mouths.

“I don't know.... I don't know how it happened," says Dean, and his voice is a little shaky and confused. 

“Did you want to?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” 

“That goes for me.”

The green surrounds him again and this time, he is filled with gratitude and hope that make him smile. One, two, three seconds.... A contained silence and that green becomes a deep, dark ocean in which he is wishing to immerse himself, in which he would like to spend all his life.

His lips were joined together again and yes, Sam had been kissed many times, but he didn't know what kissing really was until now.

 

End


End file.
